


Inheritance

by SpaceWaffleHouseTM



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, CEO Ben Solo, Does it Count as Wedding Fluff if They Don't Know it's Real, Dominant Ben Solo, F/M, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Kindergarten Teacher, No Pregnancy, Oral Sex, Padme Amidala is a Matchmaker from Beyond the GOD DAMN GRAVE, Pinch of Angst Possible, Slow Burn, Smut, Teacher Rey (Star Wars), Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:27:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29688108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceWaffleHouseTM/pseuds/SpaceWaffleHouseTM
Summary: Ben Solo, asshole CEO, is set to inherit his grandfather's fortune, but because of some bizarre footnote his grandmother added to the will he has to be married in order to collect. Enter Rey Johnson, a kindergarten teacher he happens to bump into at Starbucks one day. On a whim, he explains his situation, and asks her to marry him (for six months) strictly for transactional reasons. Figuring, "Why not? Might as well," she accepts.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 67
Kudos: 394
Collections: Reylo Prompt Fills (@reylo_prompts)





	1. Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jeeno2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeeno2/gifts).



> Jeeno sent this prompt into the twitterverse (and the reylo prompts server) and I knew immediately I needed to do it so JEENO this one's for you. 
> 
> This is the most impulsive thing I've ever written so for now I don't know what a final chapter count will be but I'll work on an outline for the remainder of what I want to write for this tomorrow and hopefully get the ball rolling. I really had no plans for a project like this but I'm gonna need multiple chapters. 
> 
> I will also likely be adding and/or taking away tags depending on what happens but I don't plan on adding anything that matches major triggers except for maybe alcohol. We'll have to see what happens.

The smell of coffee hits his nose about a block away from the Starbucks. It’s a comforting scent, one that makes the nerves generated by the meeting he’s just attended dissipate with every step he takes. 

Of course, that’s only to be expected when one gets the most disappointing news of a lifetime. Well, perhaps it’s not that disappointing in the grand scheme of things, but he’s the CEO of First Order Enterprises, has been for three years. Every moment since he first took the position--and wound up on Forbes’ Thirty Under Thirty list, mind--he’s gotten everything he’s ever wanted. 

Everything, except, it would seem, Grandma Padme’s fortune. 

His grandmother has been dead for three days, five hours, and sixteen minutes, but she’s still finding ways to meddle in his life from beyond the grave. What the hell does she _mean_ he must be married to collect his inheritance? 

He’s her last heir, the last man alive with the Skywalker name save for his hermit uncle who rejected the family name and all it came with long ago. His mother passed a decade ago under circumstances he prefers not to think about, even if they were natural, and since his father isn’t biologically related to Padme--much as the old woman had adored him--he can’t inherit the fortune either. 

Which leaves Ben. Poor--ridiculously rich but emotionally poor--Ben, poor, single, Ben. Sure, he dates people from time to time, making vague attempts to try and fill the time but just about everyone he’s brought home has made it abundantly clear they’re only interested in him for what he can give to them. They want him because he’s rich, not because of anything he can provide emotionally. 

That’s fine, he supposes. He’s got a reputation as a stupidly affluent, single asshole, and he’s not planning on changing that anytime soon. Or rather, he wasn’t until this stupid fucking clause. _God,_ he needs a drink, not a fucking sugary frappucino which he’s about to guzzle like it’s water in the desert, but something strong. A nice shot of bourbon would burn his throat and make him feel alive right about now, but he needs his head clear. 

There has to be a way to get this fortune into his hands faster than this. There has to be. 

Pushing open the door to the Starbucks, he inhales the smell of coffee, pretending for a moment that he’s back in college and coming here for a nice, long study break. Maybe that’ll help him focus, help him come up with a plan, but he doubts it. 

He approaches the end of the line, fighting back the urge to groan as he looks at the sea of people ahead of him. There’s about a dozen people between him and sweet, sweet victory. _Shit,_ maybe the world is out to get him today. 

“Yeah, I’m not exactly happy about the line either, mate, you just said what we’re all thinking,” a deep, feminine voice tells him, and it’s now that he realizes he’s just said that last bit out loud. _Fuck._

Eyes falling downward, he finds himself staring into a pair of eyes with a kaleidoscope of green and gold coloring their irises. The eyes are edged by little crinkles, created by a large, almost charming smile framed by wavy, dark hair. 

For a moment he finds himself shocked. The face doesn’t quite match the one he’d first envisioned when he heard the voice, and it especially doesn’t make sense when he takes in her attire. She’s dressed in a black top with a white, Peter Pan style collar, and a skirt whose white fabric is covered in colorful little dinosaurs. Now he’s making eye contact with a fucking triceratops, and that alone is enough to make him do a double take. 

A small laugh brings him out of his thoughts. “You all right?”

All he can do is blink. “Yeah, uh, fine.” He shakes his head. “Sorry, I’ve just--I’m having a rough day.”

The crinkles at those eyes rest, falling flat into smooth skin as her smile shifts to one of sympathy. “Sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Both of them give a tiny chuckle at that, then she turns back to the long line ahead. Ben almost starts to think their conversation is over, but then she steps back, almost to the point where she’s standing beside him. “We’ve got an awfully long line to get through if you feel like telling me about it,” she says instead, and normally, Ben would just grunt and ignore her, as he tends to do with any public run-in, but today is different. 

Today, he kind of does need to talk to a stranger in a ridiculously long line at Starbucks. “Sure, why not?”

That smile comes back again, little crinkles forming by her eyes as she holds out her hand. “Rey Kenobi.”

“Ben Solo,” he tells her, grasping her hand firmly as he watches the realization unfold on her face. 

Her eyebrows are furrowed, but her mouth hasn’t gone all wide like a lot of people’s do when they first realize who he is. She doesn’t seem excited or even entertained, just neutral, like she’s recognized someone she knows from an old photograph. “Ben Solo? Like the First Order CEO?” 

“The very same.”

A hint of apprehension flickers in front of her eyes, but then she steadies herself. “That’s--holy barnacles, okay.”

“Barnacles?”

“I work at an elementary school, I constantly have to substitute swear words with more PG alternatives, sometimes it follows me home,” she admits, then shakes her head. “But we can talk about that later, there are still ten people ahead of us, so why don’t you tell me why you look like you’ve had a stick shoved in your bum?”

Now he’s on the verge of laughter. It takes all of his strength not to snort or make some obscene sound that more closely resembles a donkey’s bray than a laugh, but he does it. “My grandmother died recently, three days ago, to be precise.”

That sympathy makes itself known once more, this time followed by her eyes widening ever so slightly. “Oh, shiitake mushrooms, that makes the stick up the bum comment a touch insensitive, doesn’t it?”

Now _that_ does make him snort. “No, no, you’re fine. My problem is, I went to her will reading just now at the law firm across the street? They told me one of grandma’s footnotes is that I can’t touch my inheritance unless I’m married.” A scoff. “How ridiculous is that?”

“Married? What kind of archaic bull shit is that?”

He shrugs. “She was always meddling in my love life. Not even just mine, actually. My mom and uncle’s too. Kept on introducing them to person after person until my mom found my dad. Uncle Luke never really dated much. He liked the single life.” Face falling, he finds his gaze falling to the floor. “Which may be the only thing we ever had in common, really.”

A sound he can only describe as melancholy flees Rey, and it occurs to him that this is probably far too much information for him to be sharing with a stranger in a place so public as this, but there’s still nine people in line ahead of them. He doesn’t give a shit, and apparently, neither does she. “God, that’s awful.”

“Not too bad, but I just don’t see myself finding anyone I want to marry anytime soon, you know?”

“I get that, I haven’t dated hardly anyone between school and work. Kind of hard to maintain a romantic life when you spend most of your time with five year olds.”

“I’d bet,” he replies, biting his lip to refrain from helplessly giggling at the mental picture that gives him. “And I know this is ridiculous, but I want that money. If it’s supposed to be mine, then it should be, you know?”

“I guess, but I make forty thousand a year. If I had to marry to get my inheritance, I’d just find a random stranger and marry them on the spot.”

Suddenly, he understands what it means to have a lightbulb appear over his head. That’s fucking brilliant. All he needs to do is marry someone legally for a time, it doesn’t have to be forever, just long enough that the court sees he is married and therefore elligible to receive his fortune. 

Rey Kenobi, kindergarten teacher who makes forty grand a year, has just saved his ass. 

The corners of his mouth tug up for the first time since he walked in the Starbucks. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a genius?”

Her eyebrows perk up. “Did you just call me a genius?”

“Well, you’ve just come up with a great plan, is that so surprising?”

Her lips disappear between her teeth for a second. “It wouldn’t be, but given what I’ve heard about you, you don’t seem the type to offer compliments to people you’ve only just met.”

That’s true. Normally, he doesn’t do this kind of thing, doesn’t talk casually to people he doesn’t know or engage with them in any way other than what’s considered professional. This woman, however, seems to have a way of getting him to listen, of keeping his attention glued to whatever she’s saying even though he’s done most of the talking so far. That’s pretty on brand for him, though, so maybe he’s not too far off from his normal self. 

He is both grieving and selfishly lusting after a fortune he doesn’t need, after all. 

Giving her a nervous laugh, he runs a hand through his hair, wincing at the hint of grease he feels beneath his fingertips. “Well, I have had one hell of a day, and…” Just this once, he can be honest. “You’re not the worst person to share it with.”

“Careful, Solo, I might start to think you’re nice.”

At this, they both laugh again, a brief sound with light amusement rather than joy, but it still makes the clouds fogging his brain dissolve a little nonetheless. “But about that idea of yours, what do you think about making it a reality?”

That well-sculpted eyebrow quirks again. “How so?”

“Are you single, Rey? I know this sounds kind of forward of me given that we’ve only just met, but--” He pauses, briefly contemplating getting down on one knee just to drive home the point, but they don’t need to draw any unnecessary attention to themselves and this Starbucks is a touch too crowded for his liking. “Will you marry me?”

“I’m--I’m sorry?”

The words begin to leave him in a rush. “Just for six months.” _Don’t run your hand through your hair, you’ll look like a nervous wreck._ “It’d be temporary, we wouldn’t have to do much, just be seen together from time to time, then amicably divorcce realizing that we may have rushed into this a little too fast.”

Seconds pass in which all she does is blink at him, then she slowly bows her head. “You want to marry me?”

“I’d be willing to pay you a small percentage of the fortune for your trouble, but I am growing desperate,” he says, then he holds his hands close to his chest. “You came up with a brilliant idea, you’ve possibly saved my ass and my company. Imagine the things I’ll be able to do with the First Order with that money. Or you, with even a bit of it.”

She winces slightly at that, and he can tell he sounds like an asshole, especially given that his company has almost a full monopoly on the computer industry, but eventually, when they’re four people from the front of the line, she nods again. “You’d give me a small percentage of the money?”

“A percent.”

Rey’s brows point downward, her lips pressing into a line as she shakes her head. “One percent to be married to you for six months? You’re talking about making me Mrs. Ben Solo for a time. I’m going to have to devote a part of my life to you for six months, and you only want to give me one percent?”

She does have a point. It isn’t much, but when he considers that one percent of his multi-billion dollar fortune is in the millions, he thinks it’s fair. Still, she could use it, and it’s not like he’ll miss a cool few million when he unloaded that much on a mansion a few years back anyway. If he can blow off that much money just to celebrate a promotion, surely he can blow off a few more--and profit from it, really--on a marriage that won’t even last forever?

This woman is offering him an out, a way to speed that fortune directly into his bank account, into his company’s bank account, and that’s what he really needs, isn’t it?

Closing his eyes, he gives a heavy sigh. “Okay, sure, we can discuss a higher percentage, that’s fine. But before we do anything, I need you to be completely sure you want to do this. We’re going to be married through the Holiday season well into the spring. That’s a lot of potential opportunities for our families to ask questions. Do you have any family that you need to notify about this and are you okay with meeting mine?”

“I don’t have anyone. My family’s all either died out or lives in another country. It’s just me and my dog, BeeBee.”

“I will have to request as a condition of our marriage that I’m allowed to meet the dog.”

That damned charming smile brightens her face once more. “So you _do_ have a soft spot, huh?”

“Just for dogs.”

“Mmhmm, I’m sure.” Then together, they step forward, now only two people from the front of the line. “So how soon do you need to get married? I’ve got to figure out my schedule and such, but I’m always free on weekends and weekdays after four?”

Right, a school teacher’s schedule. She’s got the old six-thirty to four and he’s got a nine to five--well, he usually gets off early, since he’s the damned boss, but still--but what that means is they both have weekends off. They could do a nice Saturday wedding. 

It’ll be the best courthouse wedding anyone has ever seen. “How’s this Saturday?”

“Sounds nice. I’ve got a white dress already--winter dance for the school--and I assume you being you, you’ve got a tux?”

“I have too many of them, honestly.”

One person remains between them and their long awaited coffee, that person staring at them as if they have two heads as they laugh at his confession. If only they knew the full context. 

Rey takes a deep breath. “So are we going to have to kiss? We’re actually trying to sell the marriage, right? Not just satisfy a contract?”

“We need to sell the marriage for the court to believe me, so yes. We’re going to have to kiss, and have dinner a few times, and possibly appear madly in love. Are you up for that?”

She pauses for a moment, a million thoughts racing through her head as he watches patiently. Then she smirks. “You’re offering me a chance at a retirement fund, I’m all yours, Solo.”

Heart pounding in his chest, he gives her a hurried nod. “Great, I guess we should probably trade phone numbers then, if we’re going to be married in a couple of days.” 

The woman beside him holds up a finger, pointing to the now empty space between them and the counter, where a pretty, young barista with the traditional green apron tied tight to her body is now waiting on them to place their order. “Gladly, but I think we’ve talked up all of our free time for now. It’s time to order.”

Together, they step forward, and Ben puts a hand on her shoulder. His touch is cautious and tentative at first, but then he lets it rest once those crinkles resume their place by her eyes. “Why don’t you let me get this one, dear? If we’re going to be married, why don’t I get to know my future wife over a cup of coffee?”

“I’d like that,” she tells him, resting a hand over his. “After all… we still haven’t discussed what kind of ring you’re going to get me.”


	2. Engagement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I can manage to keep this at seven chapters and if it goes on any longer than that GOD HELP ME

Rey is kind of fun to be around. Their Starbucks date—well, is it really a date if they’re simply discussing a mutually beneficial marriage arrangement—reveals the kindergarten teacher he’s about to spend the next six months with is someone worth his while.

She’s funny, and he knows this because he’s laughed more times in the last half an hour than in the last month. Hell, the past _year._ Not only that, but she knows how to call him out on his bullshit. Whenever he complains about his monetary struggles, she’s quick to humble him, to make him realize just how privileged he is to have what he’s got.

In all honesty, she doesn’t need him, but he may need her in more ways than just the obvious. Weirdly enough, he thinks it’s entirely possible he’s just successfully bonded with someone for the first time in years.

But it’s still too early to tell if this is genuine or if it’s because he’s just promised her a large sum of money. For all he knows, this could be an act, but he won’t know for sure until they spend a little more time together. After all, if this is an act, she can only keep it up for so long.

“So how is it?” he asks when their conversation hits a bit of a lull, realizing there’s one thing he hasn’t spoken to her about yet. “Being a kindergarten teacher, that is. Kids drive you crazy?”

A dry chuckle falls from her lips as she nods. “Sure, sometimes, but mostly they’re sweet.” Sipping from the green straw of her frappuccino, her laughter turns into a sigh. “I know they get a bad rap as little demons, but I don’t know. Something is charming about when a child says ‘look what I found!’ and it’s a crappity little worm.”

 _Crappity._ She truly does get inventive with those words, doesn’t she? “You know you can swear around me, right? You’re off the clock, professor.”

Rey holds up a finger. “One, this isn’t college, I’m no professor. Two, I can’t. If I break the habit now, I may accidentally say H-E-double hockey sticks or worse in front of my students.”

“H-E-double hockey sticks,” he mutters, snickering quietly to himself as another thought comes to mind completely out of left field. What other circumstances do these inventive swears come out in? How else might she shout something like _phooey,_ or _great scot?_

It really shouldn’t have come to mind, he should let that thought die, but now he can’t help it. To his credit, he’s made it a surprising amount of time without mentally undressing his current date—is it a date? He’s not sure if this counts—and they _are_ about to spend six months married, but she’s a kindergarten teacher. She spends her time around children who are approximately one-third as tall as he is. That has to mean she probably never—

One of her hands comes up to wave in front of his face. “Ben? Are you okay?” she asks, true concern in her eyes as he comes back to earth.

“Yeah, uh, sorry. I was just—” He swats the air dismissively. “Thinking. About stuff.”

Nodding slowly as if she doesn’t quite believe him, she sets down her now empty drink. “Having second thoughts about marrying me?”

“What? No, not at all, I just…” He leans in, sliding his drink to the side as he stares at her over the table. Once again, he’s struck by the fact that his new fiance has very nice eyes, the colors jumping out and swimming in his field of vision, distracting him from anything else in their surroundings. That’ll come in useful when they’re trying to convince the court that they’re in love. “I wanted to know if you might swear for me, just once.”

“You’re joking.”

“Just one fuck, come on.” Shifting in his seat, he leans in a little closer. “You know you want to, Kenobi.”

The corners of her mouth tilt up as she leans in close enough that she almost meets him in the middle. At this close of a distance, he can’t see her features anymore, everything’s a blur of peach and pink, and that _stunning_ hazel. Perhaps there is more to her than meets the eye, maybe spending her days with bad crayon drawings and plastic dinosaurs doesn’t hinder her ability to flirt. “I believe you should start calling me Solo, sir.”

A shiver runs down his spine. _Sir,_ she’d said, and while he’s never thought that kind of thing could get him off before, he’s tempted to cross his legs now. That deep voice is doing things to him—maybe at some point, he’ll just have to consummate their marriage to get this out of his system. “Uh, yeah, I—Yes, absolutely, um, Mrs. Solo, would you do me the honor of giving me one proper good fuck to preemptively consummate our marriage?”

Whether or not the fuck is a simple swear word or he absolutely rails her in his penthouse, he’s not picky.

She pulls back a little way. “Let me see,” she says, then as Ben folds his hands one over the other in waiting, she leans in again. “Fuck no.”

They both fall against the back of their chairs, laughter shaking their chests as he nods his approval. She’d been given one fuck and she’d used it brilliantly, in his mind, at least. Now all he wants to do is make her do it again, make her swear all sorts of inventive, beautiful swears—and in every context he can imagine. “All right, you win this time.”

“I’ll win every time.”

“Don’t get cocky,” he warns, then he takes one last sip of his drink before he too rises to his feet, and offers her his hand. “Come with me.”

Eyebrows shooting toward her hairline, she reaches out hesitantly to take it, her hand trembling slightly as their fingers touch. “Where are we going?”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “I believe I owe you a ring, my dear.” Then as he pulls her to her feet, his thumb rubs over the empty space on her left ring finger. “A diamond fitting of someone I can call my fiance.”

“Even if it’s fake?”

“Rey, no one will believe me if I give you some piece of shit five-dollar ring you can find at CVS. They’ll only believe the real deal, and trust me, I have the money to spare.”

Before she could protest, he was tugging on her hand, pulling her out into the increasing darkness. The sun had not quite set beneath the horizon, the last of its rays painting the sky in hues of violet and fire, the city around them alight with that potential for anything to happen once the stars came out. There’s a feeling of anticipation swelling within him as a result, foreign and confused from disuse, and he isn’t sure what to think about it, but it feels _good,_ and _right_ and that—

That trumps everything else.

*

“You drive… a _Tesla?_ ” Rey asks, her voice rising in pitch with every word she speaks. It’s not the usual sound one of his dates makes when he first shows them his car. Most of the time, they sound kind of impressed, but she sounds almost judgmental like she’s mocking him.

It isn’t mean-spirited, but there’s an undertone of, _really?_ hidden in her question nonetheless. That’s odd to him, he’s never had this problem with women—or anyone, really—before. “I do, is that a problem?”

She shakes her head. “I just—I don’t know what I expected, given who you are, but I was kind of hoping that you weren’t an Elon Musk ass-kisser.”

“I’m not, the car was a—” The look on her face is skeptical, and he can tell her it’s a gift and lie all he wants, but they both know he has enough money to afford twenty of these and barely sweat his bank account. “Listen, I don’t like the guy, but it’s a nice car. She’s a guilty pleasure.”

Once more, her eyebrows make a fast journey toward her hairline. “She?”

“It changes depending on the day.” Moving past her, he pulls open the passenger side door, gesturing for her to get in. “Come on. Sun’s gone down so we don’t have long before every store in town closes and we’re on a bit of a deadline.”

Looking at his car apprehensively, she lowers herself into it, allowing him to shut the door before he comes around to the other side. That feeling of anticipation rises within him anew as he sits down beside her, the car lighting up once he presses the start engine button. It hits him that this is kind of insane, that this may not be a smart idea, because even though he gets a wonderful energy from Rey, there’s every chance that she isn’t what she seems.

He’s putting a lot on the line for this, but if she’s being honest with him, then so is she. There’s also a non-one-hundred-percent chance that she’s lying about being a kindergarten teacher. She wears fucking dinosaur print skirts and doesn’t swear if she can help it. Only someone who’s honest about who they are and what they want would ever consider saying words like “phooey,” or “corn nuts.”

As he pulls out of his—admittedly shitty—parallel parking job, Ben realizes once and for all that of the two of them, she’s got the most to lose. Especially if her job gets the wrong impression of their marriage. _Fuck,_ that’s another thing he has to consider. He’ll have to visit her at work to keep up appearances.

And he has no idea how to handle small children. That’s another thing he’s just going to have to learn being married to her, he supposes, just one of many things he’ll have to deal with over the next six months.

That’s fine. He’s getting billions out of this and it’s been ages since he spent any time with someone he feels is worth his while. As long as he’s right about her, this is a win-win.

“So where are you taking me?” Rey asks after a while. “Where is this ring worthy of your fiance?”

For the unknown-th time today, he’s smiling. “There’s a shop in midtown. Bit upscale, but it’s where several of my higher-ups have gone when they fucked up with their wives and needed to grovel.”

“Ah, so a groveling ring for the woman you’re going to marry?”

“Well, it is a fake marriage.”

“You don’t have any kind of old family heirloom or something sentimental you can give me?” she asks, then when he looks at her on the next red light, she shrugs. “You said you wanted to sell it, right?”

Holding up a finger from the wheel, his eyes briefly meet hers. “My grandmother is holding my assets hostage from beyond the grave, remember?”

“Right.”

“How about this? I’ll give you something nice from her collection after the wedding, but for now? Let me buy you the most stupidly large diamond—”

Another snort. “No, not something ugly, please, I don’t care how long I’m wearing it for, I don’t want to accidentally wound one of my students because you gave me something that would make Queen bloody Elizabeth jealous.”

The laughter that pulls from him is genuine, rumbling in his gut as the light turns green, and they continue on their path through downtown. “All right, fine, we’ll go with something less gaudy. What kind of thing do you like then? Something clear? A little color? I think something blue would go nice with those little dinosaurs of yours.”

Her eyes roll back in her head, but she’s laughing too as they pass from downtown into midtown, muttering quietly about how she’s just agreed to marry a nuisance. “A pop of color could be cute, I suppose.”

“Then your wish is my command,” he tells her, stepping a little harder on the accelerator as they drive on into the darkening night.

Soon enough, they come upon the jewelry shop. Given the somewhat late hour, there is no one around, leaving the shop empty of everyone except a lone figure occupying the counter toward the back, a blonde woman with thick-rimmed glasses who seems to be inspecting something thoroughly. Perhaps it’s the diamond he’s about to purchase for Rey, or maybe she’s just making sure her vision still works.

He doesn’t know what people like her get up to in their spare time.

Parallel parking outside of the jewelry store proves to be a bitch, given that the only space in front of it is between two asshats who probably got their driver’s license from a dry cleaner’s, but after some clever maneuvering, he makes it. Once they’re in, he shuts off the car, then together, he and Rey make their way out onto the sidewalk in front of the jewelry store, and he offers her his hand.

“Why?”

“We’re supposed to be a couple now, aren’t we, darling?” he asks, twirling her around as she yelps in shock, then he pulls her in close, holding her as if they’ve just been dancing. “We need to act like we’re madly in love.”

Breath shaking slightly, she gives him a nod, her head moving a little too fast as her face flushes. “Oh, of course.” Laughter fills the air as she pulls back. “We’ll have to work on that, won’t we? Can’t have you catching me off guard again.”

“Mm, agreed, why don’t you text me your availability later and we can rehearse a backstory before the wedding?”

“Sounds perfect,” she replies, then she looks toward the store. “Shall we? I should be getting home soon. Tomorrow’s lesson plans still need to be finalized.”

 _Right,_ a kindergarten teacher. She’s used to early nights and early mornings, quite the opposite of his hectic, fast pace life full of late nights and parties and glamor—they are truly polar opposites, aren’t they? It’s a good thing this is only a fake marriage. “Of course.”

Then together, they make their way into the store, the bell over the front door greeting them with a loud, high-pitched ring. The woman behind the counter’s head snaps up, and a look of relief crosses over her features as she comes around to the front of it ready to greet them. “Welcome in,” she says. “What can I help you find today?”

It’s now that he realizes, he’s picked the perfect partner to fake a marriage with. Rey leaps into action, holding her left hand out in front of them with her fingers splayed out to display their ringlessness. “Oh, would you believe it? This darling fiance of mine proposed on the spot and forgot a ring.” False, but sweet laughter fills the air. “I dragged him in here to fix that.”

“Oh?”

Ben nods. “Of course, whatever my future wife wants, she gets,” he replies, wrapping an arm around her waist and squeezing her hip. “We don’t have a budget, so show us your best and brightest. That’s only what the light of my life deserves.”

Resting a hand on his chest, Rey rises on the balls of her feet and plants a small kiss on his jaw. “Oh, babe, you shouldn’t.”

His entire body is on fire now, a flush rivaling the bloodiest of this store’s rubies likely coloring his cheeks as her kiss burns on his skin. _Fuck,_ he needs to get a grip. He’s Ben Solo, CEO extraordinaire and envy of men everywhere. He doesn’t get flustered. “You’re the only woman I’ll ever love from this day forward, I think you’re owed the best I can offer.”

As Rey giggles, he turns back to the store clerk, who’s staring at them expectantly. “Right, well, I’m Gwen,” she says, holding out a hand and shaking both of theirs in turn. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

“And you,” they reply in unison, both smiling slightly as their eyes meet, then they look back at the woman providing them assistance.

Already, Gwen looks as if she’s fighting back annoyance. Perfect, they must be properly selling this, then. “Come with me, I think I have just the set for you.” Then she guides them over to a glittering display full of some of the biggest, absurdly expensive diamonds he’s ever seen.

Well, he’s seen a number in his time, but the way Rey’s eyes widen as she looks at them makes him realize who he’s agreed to marry. This is a woman who makes just about forty grand per year, compared to him raking in, well, billions without blinking an eye. Of course, a diamond the size of her pinky fingernail is going to be a bit much.

She did say she wants something cute, after all, and the one thing he isn’t lying about is that he’ll do anything for this woman. She’s saving his ass. He owes her.

“This is our newest collection, the designer’s a bit pretentious, but that’s only to be expected from someone with as high of standards as Armitage Hux.” Gwen opens the top of the case, the glass sliding smoothly down onto her side of the counter as Rey and Ben look down into it, eyes lost in a sea of shiny things.

Each one seems bigger than the last, and he can hear his fiance’s breath hitch at some of the price tags. “Just remember, it’s on my dime, and no matter which one you pick, I won’t miss the money,” he tells her, leaning down to whisper lowly in her ear. “Pick whatever you want, _darling._ ”

The way she shivers against him in the aftermath doesn’t go unnoticed. “Oh, I don’t know…” She points to one in the far left corner, it’s pretty, less gaudy than the others, almost classic in its beauty. It’s also noticeably cheaper than every other ring in the case, ten thousand dollars cheaper to be precise. “That one could do nicely.”

Admittedly, it’s a very beautiful ring. It has the appearance of a four-point star with a circular diamond at its center and diamonds lining its rose-gold band. He’s certain he’s seen rings like this in old historical photos, hidden amongst the opulence of the twenties—the 1920s, that is, and apparently, the twenties they’re in now—and looking at his kindergarten teacher now, he thinks it suits her. “I think that one will do nicely indeed.”

“Ah, a nice vintage ring.” Gwen looks between the two of them. “Yes, that would suit a couple like you nicely, but are you sure you wouldn’t like to try one of the others in this set? You did say you had no budget and this one is on the lower end—”

“I’m sure,” Rey says, holding out her hand. “I’d like to try that one, please.”

Blinking her surprise at having been cut off, their attendant gives a slightly more false smile than the others. “Sure.” Then she reaches down, pulling the ring out of its velvet perch, and hands it to Rey, placing it gently in her open palm. “Let me know if you need it resized, it’ll take a couple of days, though.”

His fiance gives another nod, then she slips the ring onto her finger, tilting her hand left and right to watch it glitter in the lights of the shop. It’s even more beautiful on than off, and instantly, Ben knows they’ve found the perfect ring. This is the one, the thing she’ll be wearing for the next six months, but it’s not the only thing they’re going to need. “It’s perfect,” he breathes.

“I agree.” Rey looks at the woman helping them, beaming in a way that almost seems genuine as she once again takes hold of Ben’s arm. “We’ll take it.”

“Perfect, I’ll ring up a bill,” Gwen says, starting to make her way back over to her register when Ben holds up a finger. “Yes?”

“And can we get a couple of wedding bands to match? We’re planning on having the wedding sooner rather than later.”

Surprise lights up the other woman’s eyes. “Of course. Rose gold to match her ring?”

Meeting Rey’s eyes, he raises a hand to lift her chin. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”


End file.
